


Wormwood

by Anatemnein



Category: Family Law (TV 1999)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 20,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatemnein/pseuds/Anatemnein
Summary: Randi takes on a divorce case for a very wealthy client, and soon discovers that truth is darker than fiction.
Relationships: Randi King/Andres Diaz
Comments: 13
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

~~~~

_Three things that cannot long be hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth._

-Buddha

_Astre, Absinthe,_   
_Grande est Hercolubus._   
_L'ère Verseau, colossal verse l'eau [...]_

- _Hercolubus_ by Eths

_Là sur ma langue, un peu de terre se mélange aux vers, au sang._   
_Ne se desserrent violemment les parois de ma gorge vaginale sous la force de_   
_tes quelques doigts sales._   
_Tu t'es servi du reste, tu le caches, taxidermiste assidu obsédé du calice._   
_Lentement les membres flottent au gré du vent, au gré de l'eau, il faut que tu saches._   
_J'ai encore mal, tu vas payer._

- _Anatemnein_ by Eths


	2. Chapter 2

"Did anyone buy anymore creamer?" Patricia asked, rifling through the cabinets.

"Second shelf in the cabinet, bottom shelf in the fridge" Lynn said softly, pouring herself her first cup of the day. The lack of a caffeine hit rendered Patricia's already annoyingly bubbly voice almost unbearable, and she swiftly turned on her heels and disappeared through the doorway.

Viveca fell in line beside her, throwing her a sideways glance and saying, "You and that priest become best buddies yet?"

"Hardly."

"Think the allegations are true?"

"Aren't they always?"

"What about the abusive household he said he saved the girl from?"

Lynn stopped in the doorway of her office and turned around, pausing thoughtfully before replying, "Apparently also true. DSS has a call log some three pages long over two years, all from different sources."

"So it's a double-edged sword?" Viveca said, walking over to her chair and sitting down behind her desk.

"Yeah, no kidding" Lynn muttered, more to herself than to Viveca as she disappeared into her office. She dropped the manila envelope on her desk and heaved a sigh of relief as she sat down, praying she'd be allowed the see the bottom of her mug before another interruption came waltzing through her door.

As the elevator doors swung open Rex was silently praying the same thing as he sighed heavily and walked toward the door of Holt & Associates. Oversleeping on a Monday morning plus no caffeine was indeed the bitch he thought it would be, and he was almost to the office when he heard a voice from behind him call out, "Hey, Rexie!"

He turned around, furrowing his brows as much in annoyance as confusion as he saw Joe Celano walking quickly toward him, briefcase swinging and heavy mop of hair hanging wildly on his forehead.

"Joe" he replied curtly, rolling his eyes as he opened the door.

"Weekend looks like it had a time with you" Joe said, his usual smug smirk crossing his face.

It was a face Rex was fairly certain could be undone with a well-placed punch, but he knew it wasn't worth the energy--or the write-up that would follow--so he shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Late start this morning."

Joe laughed and said, "I'm tellin' ya man, implement an exercise routine. You know what I'm doing? Clearing two miles before the sun even touches the treetops, that'll keep you from snoozing."

"Yeah, so would cocaine" Rex retorted, speeding up and disappearing through his office door, shutting it firmly behind him and praying he could enjoy the silence of his office before the day got rolling.

"Peeps coffee creamer?" Viveca asked snidely, peering over Patricia's shoulder as she walked into the kitchen to grab a muffin off the counter. 

Patricia whirled her head around, and Viveca could tell she was searching for a retort before she finally settled on a curt "Is that a problem?"

Viveca cocked an eyebrow at her and hesitated before saying slyly, "Not any more than anything else you do" as she waltzed back to her desk.


	3. Chapter 3

Randi sat behind her desk, rifling desperately through the stack of papers that decorated the top of it as she heard Andres' footsteps approaching.

"Have you seen the file on our latest client?" she asked, not looking up as he walked into the office.

"Here" he said simply, shoving the manila envelope into her hands without so much as glancing in her direction.

Randi hesitated, taking it slowly and drawing in a careful breath before saying, "Thank you", studying him carefully as she walked back to her chair.

The four months he'd spent in Chile--plus the year and change that they'd dated--had molded him into a person Randi was both impressed by and wary of. The Andres of last year--the childless, cocky, smoothly charming 25 year old she'd hired--was a person she knew inside and out. That person had often cooked her dinner when she'd spent the night at his apartment; had spent two hours walking the city to find a vinyl record she wanted; was as quick with a retort as he was with a flirtatious remark. This person, this shaggy haired man whose good looks were offset by the glint of a gold earring in his ear, was someone she didn't know at all. The time with her had stripped him of the boyish surety and left in its wake a darkly intense, unhappy person who seemed like a stranger. 

He crossed his legs as he sat in the chair opposite her desk and stared glumly at the floor, sipping his coffee. 

"What do you think?" she asked, looking at him sympathetically.

Andres glanced up, catching the pity on her face, and there was a flash of anger on his as he looked away again and said, "About?"

"Our client, Andres."

"Interesting, I guess, like usual" he replied quietly.

Randi sighed to herself, looking down at her lap before saying quietly, "I have to go meet her this afternoon, I'd like for you to come with me."

"I'm taking Matthew out for lunch" he said quickly.

"After lunch...around three."

Andres paused, and Randi could see him frantically searching for an answer before he relented, biting his lip and saying, "You afraid to go alone?"

"It's not the best side of town."

Andres rose to his feet, looking at her coolly as he said, "Just let me know when you want to leave" before disappearing into the main area of the office where his desk was located.

Randi watched him through the window of her office, most his tall figure fading from view as he sat down behind his computer. She bit her lip, silently deciding to be grateful he'd even agreed to her request as she opened the drawer to her desk to grab a pen, stopping short before her hand made contact with one.

Off to the side was the small, dark, velvet box, exactly where she'd left it, along with the question he'd asked that she'd never answered four months ago in the airport. Randi bit her lip so roughly it nearly bled as she averted her eyes, snatching the pen from her desk and getting to work. 

The 'together-but-not-together' limbo she'd thrust Andres and herself into was one she hadn't yet figured out how to extricate them from.


	4. Chapter 4

Randi came to a sudden stop at the corner, looking around curiously as Andres came up beside her and said, "And where are we exactly?"

"The intersection of Midtown and Roxy, she told me to meet her here" she replied as he glanced around, not sure even who it was she was looking for. She hadn't taken the client on herself. The woman--she knew at least that much about her--was one that Lynn had handed off to her after receiving her request for representation from Danni. Neither of them had time, muttering something about workloads and lucrative cases as they left it with Randi. The information on the inside was scant. All Randi had to go on was that she was a woman of about middle age, and that she wanted help divorcing her husband. There was a sense of urgency in the case file that intrigued Randi and so she took the scraps of information she had and followed it here, to the intersection of a part of town she wouldn't otherwise be caught dead in.

She was about to consider giving up the ghost and going back to the office when a sleek, black limousine pulled up alongside the curb and a window rolled down.

"Are you Randi King?" asked a female voice.

Randi squinted against the sun and said, "Yes, yes I am. Are you Lillian Fallon?"

Before her question could receive an answer, the back door to the limousine opened as the woman leaned forward and said, "Yes, I am. Please, get in."

The sense of urgency in the file mimicked the tone of her voice, and Randi glanced questioningly at Andres--who shrugged in reply--before deciding, against her better, usual judgement, to get into the car. Something about her client indicated to Randi she was in no danger of coming to harm, and as she felt Andres' imposing figure slide in next to her she knew she would be safe, regardless.

"Drive" Lillian said as she slowly removed her dark, expensive shades and placed them in her lap.

The limo lurched quickly from the corner--the driver under the same sense of pressure as Lillian herself--and Randi glanced curiously at them before settling her eyes on her client.

"You're Lillian Fallon, the actress" Randi said, surprised the name hadn't rung a bell when she'd read it in the file a few days ago.

Lillian turned to her, her steel colored eyes studying Randi suspiciously before relaxing--if only slightly--before she answered softly, "Yes, I am."

Randi turned to Andres, knowing he was clueless as to what they were talking about, and said, " _Fairfield Estates_ , that soap opera that's been on for the last couple of decades."

Andres nodded, still looking both confused and indifferent, before Randi turned back to Lillian and said, "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but Midtown and Roxy is hardly the place I'd have expected to meet you."

Lillian settled back in her seat, flinging her long blonde hair back over her shoulders and saying, "Yes, well, I need the divorce and I need to keep my husband in the dark, until I can figure out how to get some kind of protection for myself."

"Protection?" Randi asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

Lillian hesitated, drawing in a shaky breath before raising her dress up to the top of her thigh to reveal a large, dark bruise hidden under the silky fabric.

Andres watched carefully as Randi inhaled sharply, the unsightly mark quickly bringing back unpleasant memories of her own marriage as she stared at it thoughtfully, trying to find something to say.

"How long?" she finally asked, looking back at Lillian's profile.

"Since the beginning."

Randi was only vaguely aware of the premise of _Fairfield Estates_ , having seen an episode or two years ago when Mary Beth was home sick with the flu, but she knew enough about Lillian to know that 'the beginning' was somewhere in the realm of twenty years, and the husband in question was none other than Rowan Fallon, noted for his role as the lead detective on the crime show _Fine Print_ and various other critically acclaimed theater appearances.

Randi thought carefully, trying to remember any photographs or interviews she may have seen over the years. She remembered the face of Rowan Fallon, if little else. Platinum haired, a few years older, striking more than handsome, but endowed with a sleek, elegant figure that attracted a legion of loyal female--and male--followers. Their photographs decorated the covers and insides of the tabloids Randi turned her nose up at--but Mary Beth had loved--in stands at grocery stores, and Randi could faintly remember a television appearance or two by one or both of them. She'd never paid any particular attention, but Mary Beth had always thought Lillian among the prettiest of the cast of _Fairfield Estates_ , and had swooned once, seeing footage of Rowan Fallon walking the red carpet, his wife on his arm.

_"Hollywood royalty, Mom" Mary Beth had said in the snide, get-a-clue tone all teenagers used when Randi had inquired as to her interest in him. "Everybody loves them, they have the perfect marriage."_

_"Nobody has a perfect marriage, darlin'" Randi had said carefully, crossing her legs slowly as she nursed another bruise on her leg that, so far, her pants were helping to hide._

_"They do" Mary Beth retorted, walking closer to the television to watch them dreamily._

_So much for that_ , Randi thought silently to herself, wishing Mary Beth was here right now to glimpse the bruise on Lillian's thigh.

"Does anyone know?" Randi asked carefully, deciding that the best place to start--as far as getting the divorce went--was with anyone who could testify to any beatings or mistreatment.

Lillian turned to her and gave her a wry smile before shaking her head sadly and looking away, saying quietly, "It's not who knows, it's who's willing to say anything."

"Well there must be someone--"

"There are people" Lillian said, turning back to her, a studied look crossing her face, the impassive, practiced look of someone who's spent her whole life in front of a camera. She turned away again, taking a cigarette from her purse in the same elegant manner that she moved her hair, flicking a lighter to it--that Randi guessed cost more than her car--before inhaling slowly and continuing. "You'll have to dig. Most of the people who know--the few, anyway--probably won't want to talk to you because of the damage it would do to their reputation. And ours."

Randi paused, licking her lips before saying, "Well, no offense, Ms. Fallon, but the damage to your soul is worse than the damage to your reputation."

"Soul?" Lillian asked, a sharp, crude laugh escaping her lips. "This is Hollywood, almost no one has a soul out here."

Randi struggled to find a response before Lillian relaxed a little more and said, "It's such a funny thing, you know." She was looking out the window now, studying the faces of the curious onlookers in the less-than-moneyed part of town they were traveling through. Randi knew the tint on the windows kept them from seeing who was inside, but she also knew that wasn't important.

"What is?" Randi asked softly.

"Living this way" Lillian replied smoothly, her voice in sharp contrast with the elegant exterior of her life. It carried a weightiness that told Randi she was completely aware of the mirage she'd constructed around herself, but like an animal in a gilded cage it was a trap she no longer knew how to get out of. "I did an interview on TV last week with Dominic Caldwell--"

"The journalist?" Randi said, the name ringing a bell.

"Mm-hm. He praised my husband endlessly--he's just finished doing Shakespeare in New York--and I coddled him like I do most journalists."

"...What's funny about that?"

"He was sitting behind us in Rivers & Sons the week before, having dinner, when my husband started in on me. Scared our waiter half to death, I padded his tip to keep him quiet."

Randi's face evinced no reaction, but inwardly she was clinging hopefully to the first clues that would help her case as she listened.

"That stupid son of a bitch, he heard the whole thing. I got up to use the restroom and when I came back there he was, in my seat, chatting it up with Rowan." She waved her hand elegantly, leaving a faint smoke trail in the air before she continued. "Rowan has a way of doing that, you know, laying into me and then making me look like the bad guy. Dominic must've bought it hook, line, and sinker, judging by the way he and my husband were smiling together." She turned to Randi with a bitter smile as she said, "He only had good things to say during our interview."

Randi inhaled slowly, nodding her head thoughtfully, trying to figure out what path was best to take before silently making her decision. "I was in your shoes, once, a few years ago, I know how it feels." Just enough sympathy in her voice and reply to ensure Lillian wouldn't feel condescended to--or worse--pitied. Randi had always hated both.

"What happened?"

A sly smirk crossed Randi's face as she replied, "I killed my husband."

Lillian stared at her for a moment before she replied sadly, "I could never do that" turning as the car slowed and casting a glance up at a picture of Rowan on a poster of the theater the limo had just stopped in front of. "They love him too much."

Before Randi could say anything else, Lillian shook her hair and reached for the handle of the car door. "He'll take you back to where you need to go" she said, gesturing toward her driver.

"What was the name of your waiter?" Randi asked quickly, hoping against hope that Lillian might remember.

"Manuel" she said softly, smiling before shutting the door behind her.

The driver looked up in the rear view and said, "Where to ma'am?"

Randi hesitated before looking up at him and saying softly, "Back to where we began."


	5. Chapter 5

"Criminy."

Lynn rolled her eyes, casting a glance over at Joe before saying tersely, "What?"

"Take out? Hardly seems like you."

Lynn inhaled slowly, glancing up at Rex who merely cast a knowing glance back in her direction before saying, "Rupi forgot his show and tell thing today, and Cassie was late getting out of the shower."

"I coulda grabbed you a salad--"

"I didn't _want_ a salad" Lynn snapped, rolling her eyes and shoving her burger into her mouth.

"Alright! Egad, you try to help" Joe muttered, throwing up his hands and shaking his head before stabbing a fork into his bowl.

Lynn inhaled sharply and looked at Rex who said simply, "I'm tellin ya--cocaine, we all need it."

She shook her head and turned to see Danni walking into the conference room, tuna casserole on her plate and a glass of water in her hand. 

"What'd I miss?" she asked jovially, sitting beside Joe.

"Besides Lynn driving herself to heart attack city, not much" he said quickly.

"I am _not_ driving myself to heart attack city, Joe! For godssakes, it's one burger, okay?!"

Danni raised her eyebrows in amusement, saying nothing and turning, choosing instead to eat her lunch in silence. 

"Where's Randi?" Rex asked curiously, looking up at Lynn.

Lynn paused, throwing another glare at Joe before replying, "Out with Andres. She took that client I didn't have time for."

"The rich one?"

"Right."

"Surprised you didn't clear your schedule for her" Rex said, looking at her curiously. He remembered well the near panic Lynn had displayed at the cost of the pen's he kept in his desk, funded with company money.

"I thought Randi could do a better job with that one."

"Given the background--no kidding" Rex replied, nodding his head. 

"Things still shaky in paradise?" Joe asked, looking at them both.

Rex and Lynn exchanged cautious glances before Lynn said, "If you want to know about Randi and Andres you ask Randi or Andres."

Joe shook his head in disbelief. "No way, that dude's like seven feet tall and five feet wide, and Randi's got as much attitude as he has muscle."

"Guess it's all just a mystery to you, then" Rex replied snarkily, smirking as he lifted his lasagna to his mouth.

"Enjoy your heart attack" Joe shot back, looking angrily down at his lunch.

Lynn glanced at Danni and Rex, unable to keep herself from smirking as she took another bite of her burger. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Guess we'll have to figure out where to start" Randi said slowly, brushing her hair off her forehead as she popped a bite of her sandwich into her mouth. The air around them was warm and breezy, blowing only gently at them as they sat on the sidewalk outside the cafe, having taken Randi's car back into the familiar part of town after the limo dropped them off.

"Sure you want to do this?" Andres asked slowly, studying her. Lunch had been his idea, and she had been somewhat surprised when he suggested it. 

For his part, Andres had put his wounded heart aside and made the offer out of concern for Randi. He knew her past was behind her, but he also knew it wasn't so far behind that she could ever entirely leave it, and he wondered if delving into this case wouldn't take too much out of her.

"I have to, Andres. She needs my help" Randi replied stubbornly, licking her lips and looking off into the distance. "The truth is...I know what it's like to be her, and there's no one else who could do with this case what I could."

"I just want to make sure you know what you're doing" Andres replied, looking at her carefully. "This isn't like any of your other cases, this is close to home for you, and it could get dangerous. We don't know what this guy is capable of."

"We've seen what he's capable of" Randi retorted, narrowing her eyes at him. "That's why we have to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Andres sighed, holding her gaze before looking down and setting his lunch aside, wiping his hands with a napkin.

"I'm just saying--be careful. You're an attorney, not a vigilante, and I don't want you to get hurt."

Randi regarded him gently, catching the tone in his voice. Her face must've given her away, because Andres averted his gaze and reached for his lunch again. 

"Andres..."

"Look, I know you broke things off--how did you put it?--oh yeah, because I would "need more than this", but don't act like you don't know that I still love you. Just because your feelings changed--"

"My feelings did not change, Andres--"

"Oh yeah, sure. You just ditched me when I needed you the most, I forgot."

Randi pressed her lips together, averting her gaze before saying quietly, "Andres, I'm still here for you. _I am_. But you know as well as I do that there are things-- _people_ \--you have to take care of, that need you more than me."

Andres crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking away from her momentarily before turning his gaze back to her and saying in a shaky voice, "What about how much _I_ need you?"

Randi drew in a slow breath and was about to reply when Andres said, "Never mind, you probably didn't think of that." 

Before Randi could think of a reply, Andres shook his head, sighing and saying, "Forget it. I'm sorry. All I'm saying is if you need help, I'll help you, and I want you to be careful. Everything aside, I'm still gonna do my job like I used to, and my job is to make sure that things are going smoothly for you."

"I will probably need more of your help with this one" Randi said hopefully, thinking back to how calming his presence in the limo had been. Just knowing he was sitting there had put her mind at ease enough to enable her to find her footing in a difficult situation.

"Fine. Just let me know what you want me to do, and I'll do it" he said, still picking at his lunch.

Randi opened her mouth, paused, and shut it again, unable to figure out what to say. She looked down at her lap and hesitated before finally saying, "I suppose we should be getting back."

"Yeah, okay" Andres replied quietly, taking both their empty trays and tossing them in the trash, falling in step beside her as they walked back to her car. 

Randi sighed, the act of walking beside him now bringing back memories of the many nights where they'd done exactly this only months before, leaning against each other as they made their way home after dinner. 

She bit her lip and turned away from him so he wouldn't catch the tears that were stinging her eyes, and focused her mind on one thing. She knew she couldn't handle this case with a less than steady focus, and she'd need all the grit in her to save Lillian Fallon from a fate she herself once feared. 


	7. Chapter 7

"So, what'd you think?" Lynn asked, looking at Randi curiously from her place in front of Randi's desk.

Randi looked pointedly at her and said, "No mistake giving me that one, Lynn, I'll give you that."

"I knew you'd do better with it than me" Lynn replied softly, studying Randi. "It's not too much for you, is it? I thought to ask first, but--"

Randi raised a hand to stop her and said firmly, "You did the right thing, Lynn. If you'd have asked me, I'd have had a chance to say no, but now, meeting with her...I know what I need to do. I think it'll be good for me _and_ her."

Lynn looked at Randi carefully and said, "Well...just remember, if this things gets too much--"

"It won't, Lynn."

"But if it _does_ ," Lynn intoned, looking at Randi seriously, "just know that you don't have to do this. We all have our pasts and our sensitivities, Randi. I have a soft spot where cases dealing with kids are concerned, yours is domestic violence. If it starts to screw with your head, _hand it off_ \--we'll take care of it. I promise we won't screw this lady over."

Randi looked at Lynn carefully, setting her hands on the desk and looking down before saying, "You know, Mary Beth used to watch _Fairfield Estates_. Just worshiped Rowan and Lillian. She's a beautiful woman, you know, all blonde hair and large eyes."

"I know" Lynn said softly.

"I wished that she was there, this afternoon, to see that bruise, Lynn. But she wasn't. It's just another bruise she missed."

"You were trying to protect her, Randi."

"Yeah" Randi replied softly, averting her gaze. "I might have screwed her over instead."

Lynn bit her lip and heard Randi sigh, watching as she straightened her back and said, "Well--I should get on. I've got a waiter to chase down and some sleuthing to do, and these witness statements won't write themselves."

"You taking Andres with you?"

"Of course" Randi said, rising to her feet. "He insisted. He told me that under no circumstances should I be going it alone on this one."

"He's right" Lynn said, following Randi's cue and rising to her feet. 

"I know" Randi said softly, walking out of her office and up to Andres' desk. "You ready?" she asked gently, watching him look up at her.

He nodded swiftly, grabbing his coat from his chair and following behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

Rivers & Sons was a name that had rung a bell when Lillian mentioned it, but as Randi pulled into the parking lot she knew the reason she was unfamiliar. Maybach's and Rolls Royce's lined the parking lot, and Randi could feel the snide stares of the valet as she pulled up to the door in her convertible. For her neighborhood, her car was on the nicer side, but she knew it didn't mean a damn thing to these people.

"Can we help you ma'am?" the valet asked rather arrogantly, peering curiously at her car.

Randi grit her teeth. She knew enough to know the standard greeting was, "Good evening, madam". "Can we help you?" is reserved for people you believe are lost. 

"I"m an attorney" Randi said, whipping out her card. "This visit is regarding some business I'm conducting, and you have a young man on your employee roster I need to talk to."

The smirk quickly faded, replaced by a curious furrowing of the brows as the valet studied her card. "May I ask who?"

"Manuel" Randi shot back, growing impatient.

The valet quickly directed her to the side of the building, the dark shadow cast by the restaurant providing the privacy he knew she'd appreciate. She walked swiftly from her car into the main lobby, and looked squarely at the hostess. 

"I'm looking for Manuel" she said, holding her card up before the girl could even attempt a snobbish expression.

The girl paled and disappeared, reappearing a few minutes later with a young man in tow. Randi noticed he couldn't have been more than nineteen years old, and he was the first one yet not to cast a disparaging glance in their direction.

"May I help you?" he asked kindly, looking worriedly at Randi.

"You're not in trouble," she assured him quickly, "but do we have somewhere private we could speak?"

He nodded, leading her to a private dining room intended for two and shutting the door behind them.

"What's this about?" he asked cautiously, glancing wearily up at Andres. At 5'2" his height was nothing in comparison.

"I may be asking a lot here, but do you remember, a few weeks ago, serving a Lillian Fallon and her husband?" Randi asked, producing a photograph to jog his memory.

Manuel didn't even glance down before nodding. "Yes, yes I do. She comes in all the time. The husband, not so much. That was my first time meeting him."

"What do you remember about the last time you saw her?" Randi asked slowly, looking at him pointedly.

Manuel hesitated, taking a few short breaths before saying, "She's in trouble, isn't she?"

Randi jerked her head back in surprise, unable to reply before he continued, "I heard him that last night, I should've said something--"

"No" Randi said firmly, raising a hand and then placing it firmly on his shoulder. "No, you shouldn't have. What you remember, what you tell me now, is more valuable than anything you could've done on your own."

Manuel paused, biting his lip before looking sadly up at Randi and saying, "You weren't there. I heard him." His face hardened as he looked away from her, his mind taking him back to that night. "I never heard anything like what he said to her. When I left work and went home, my mother told me how lucky I was to be serving the great Rowan Fallon. 'A true artist' she called him. I never told her anything. She has no clue what I heard that night."

Randi glanced at Andres momentarily before saying, "I believe you. I'm trying to help Lillian too, and I need you--and anyone else who may know anything--to be able to do that. Can I trust you?"

Manuel studied her for a few moments before nodding his head. "I have a few other friends who work around here, the clothing stores, I mean. Their names are Tabitha and Jen."

"Can you tell me where they work?"

Manuel gave her the name of a high-end boutique and waited until Randi was finished jotting down the name before he said quietly, "You're gonna help her, right? You have to take him down. People need to know..."

Randi nodded sympathetically, smiling at him and saying, "I'm going to do my best to help her, Manuel. I want to thank you for what you've done today, I know it took a lot of courage."

"No" Manuel shook his head solemnly. "What you're doing takes courage." He laughed a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head before saying, "Look at his reputation. There's no one out there that knows the truth."

By 'out there' Randi knew he meant outside of Hollywood, in the dimly lit homes where manufactured lives and dreams were broadcast everyday to unknowing millions, who ate up the photos and the stories, hoping that one day their lives would be almost as good. The irony was it was women like Lillian who were hoping the same, driving by normal families each day and envying them the opportunity they had to lead mundane, easy lives where the biggest lies told were generally harmless ones. She knew, truthfully, that this was an oversimplification of facts, that everyone's lives were difficult no matter what the circumstances.

But she also knew, as she left the restaurant and looked around at the glamorous cars in the parking lot, that some of the worst devils were people like Rowan, whose true natures hid beneath a facade that Hollywood maintained was real. 


	9. Chapter 9

Randi turned off the light in the bathroom behind her as she walked slowly toward her bed, fluffing her hair and smoothing the silken fabric of her nightgown.

She crawled underneath the sheets and reached for the remote, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels. She was about to give up and settle in for the night when the image of Lillian Fallon appeared on the screen, across from Dominic Caldwell, a shimmering image in a white outfit that made her look angelic.

Randi sat up quickly, listening carefully as Dominic intoned, "Your husband--"

"Yes?" Lillian replied in the smooth, practiced tone typical of someone used to fabrications.

"Rowan Fallon."

"An artist, he's a real artist that one" Lillian said, giggling coquettishly. 

"You're a lucky woman" Dominic said, returning her smile.

The camera zoomed in on Lillian, close enough for Randi to see the pangs of sadness in her eyes before she said, "There's no one else lives like I do."

Randi watched as Lillian nodded, listening to Dominic list Rowan's accomplishments and shut off the TV, rolling her eyes in disgust.

When she first met Lillian, she was afraid that her sorrow at the sight of the troubled, battered actress would overtake her, leaving her unable to do her job.

But now, she knew she needn't have worried.

Now she was angry. And she would make good on her word to see this thing through to the bitter end. 


	10. Chapter 10

"You need me to do what?"

"I'm as shocked as you, believe me."

Patricia's eyes widened as she stared at Randi, who was standing behind her desk, the expression on her face suggesting both that Patricia was her only hope but also that she was the weakest (i.e. dumbest) link in the chain by far. Randi sighed, lowering herself into her chair and fixing her with a stern gaze.

"Listen, Patricia. I need to help my client, and in order to do that I have to gather information on her husband, but I can't do that as well as you can because I can't get caught. I'm an attorney. I ask the wrong thing of the wrong person, and my whole case is blown to hell."

Patricia swallowed heavily, looking both nervous and excited at what Randi was asking her to do. 

"So you want me to get tickets to a taping of _Fairfield Estates_...?"

"--And report back on everything you see. I have a friend--Diane Hayes--who runs a drama academy, and she's called the studio to tell them one of her students--a.k.a you--is interested in pursuing work in the soaps, and wants to attend a taping. They usually don't do these sorts of things, but in special circumstances they'll allow visitors, and thankfully for us, Diana is high enough on the totem pole that her request seemed worth the time."

"Aren't you worried that she'll--"

"What, rat on me? No, Diane may be successful, but she's not Rowan Fallon successful, and anyway, she's heard her fair share of stories about him" Randi said, smirking to herself at the memory of the stories Diane had gladly shared with her. In exchange for her honesty, Diane--like Manuel--would be protected, an anonymous source in the legion of--hopefully--anonymous sources Randi would eventually compile stories from. Truthfully, she knew she'd never win a divorce case--especially a high-profile one--using only unknown sources, but she hoped that she could eventually talk a few people into taking the stand, if necessary. That was all up in the air for now.

Patricia bit her lip, taking in a deep breath before looking up at Randi and nodding, "Okay, I'll do it. No problem. I can play the part of brainless television watcher and drama student better than anyone."

 _Probably won't take much_ , Randi thought to herself, simply smiling at Patricia and nodding. "Just call Diane and she'll have the tickets sent over to the office. They'll seat you this afternoon or tomorrow, your pick."

Patricia felt her mouth go dry at the prospect of infiltrating a successful American studio to suss out information without getting caught, but she curled her fingers under the hem of her skirt and said confidently, "Today. This afternoon. I'll eat lunch early and be on my way. I want to get this over with."

"Good luck" Randi said softly, watching Patricia bounce out of her office to call Diane. She hoped in this instance Patricia's bubblegum face and clueless stare would work for her, not against her. 


	11. Chapter 11

"Tammy Lynn Sykes?" the man asked, peering curiously at the young woman in front of him, recognizing the hopeful, naive look on her face. Another Hollywood hopeful. He'd seen plenty, even as a security guard.

Patricia nodded and smiled. She silently congratulated herself for coming up with a name that sounded both ditzy and like it hadn't been 'processed' by the Hollywood machine, the Norma Jean Baker not yet become Marilyn Monroe.

The man smiled in spite of himself, charmed by her bubbly personality and let her in the studio, ushering her onto the studio floor and into a set of bleachers. These were used not by studio audiences--as they might be for a sitcom--but by crews and actors, and the occasional special visitor like herself. The soaps were different, maintaining a greater roster of actors than most shows, and a much more vast plot lines (or, rather, lines) to accommodate their cast. 

Patricia adjusted her butterfly necklace--an old high school favorite she'd found in her closet--and pulled at her ponytail. She'd run through the streets of L.A. after scarfing down her lunch and taken the first cab she'd found to Diane's studio, where she was gifted a black, form-fitting t-shirt that read _'Diane Hayes Drama Academy'_ on the front in a looped font, and the words _'Where Dreams Are Born!'_ in the same scroll on the back. 

She scanned the studio, looking around to see if she might spot the face of Lillian Fallon. Patricia had been prepped by Randi to expect to see Rowan somewhere, either in the audience or in the shadows on the set, sitting in a directors chair. He was usually at the tapings, under the pretense that he watched her out of love. A subsequent phone call from Lillian--the morning after Randi had seen her interview--had destroyed this illusion. 

_"He likes to take notes" Lillian had said quietly into her end of the car phone that morning at 5:30 a.m. on her way to the studio._

_"Where does he keep his notebook?" Randi asked, stupidly, she would only a moment later realize._

_Lillian had laughed, a soft, gentle laugh and said, "Not real notes, mental ones. No way would he leave written evidence as to who he really is."_

_Randi paused, sensing the Lillian would soon be lost to the bustle of the day and asked, "What do you think he is, Ms. Fallon?"_

_There was a sad, momentary silence on her end before Lillian said softly, "He's whatever he needs to be to get away with what he does." There was a click, and Randi knew she was gone._

Patricia was just running the conversation with Randi through her mind, the recollection sending chills down her spine, when she spotted them. One the left, Lillian, hair sleek and gliding down her back, and beside her Rowan, in a shirt and pants Patricia was sure cost more than her modest apartment.

She felt herself stiffen in anticipation but tried to relax, taking a few deep breaths when she heard someone beside her say, "Nervous, kid?"

She whipped her head around to see a friendly, portly man of about forty-five standing beside her, smiling kindly and handing her a voucher. "For lunch, anywhere on the lot. We provide. Don't be nervous, lots of yous come around here to watch the goings on."

His use of the phrase "lots of yous" told Patricia everything she needed to know. Like her father, this gentleman had likely been born and bred in Jersey, relocating simply for the job opportunities L.A. provided, like she did. She smiled hopefully, turning in her seat to face him and said, "What gave me away?"

The man smiled wryly and said, "Well besides your shirt, your look. I don't mean that creepy like, I just mean we gets a lot of yous down here, actresses and such."

Patricia knew from his tone and air that he was sincere when he said he didn't mean it "creepy like", and silently hoped he might be able to tell her something useful. 

"Been working here a while?"

"Five years, ma'am" the man answered politely. Old school upbringing and old school manners; her father had both as well.

"Must like it" she ventured, cocking her head.

At this, the man's smile faltered slightly, and he glanced away--at Lillian, she noticed--before looking back at her, a sad expression now crossing his face.

"Some of 'em, sure, actually, most of 'ems alright, to be honest. Good work and good money."

"What's not alright?" Patricia asked, widening her eyes in hopes it would make her look simple and prompt him to say more. 

"Some of 'ems not what they seem" he said quietly, fidgeting nervously.

Patricia turned, looking out onto the stage before looking back at him and asking, "You mean Lillian Fallon?" Play stupid to get information, she knew that much.

The man shook his head, leaning a bit closer and glancing around the make sure they wouldn't be overhead. 

"The husband, Rowan Fallon. He ain't no good, no good to her."

Patricia pretended to be surprised, cocking her head back and staring at him in silence for added effect. "But I thought--"

"It don't matter what you think, it's what everyone thinks but it ain't true."

"Does anyone know?" she whispered, hoping against hope that he might say something he shouldn't.

The man slumped his shoulders, looking away from her, and Patricia could sense he was too afraid to say anything more, so she changed her technique, touching his shoulder and saying, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I don't want you to get in trouble. Thanks for the voucher."

At this, the man looked back up at her, and what happened was exactly what Patricia hoped. Front desk be damned, it made her good at dealing with people and the others would soon know this.

He glanced around again, shifting for the umpteenth time before he said, "There are whispers, ma'am. Won't none of them say they know anything, but there are signs. She don't eat much, real insecure, that gets worse every year. Her dressing room is at the back, and sometimes he goes in there with her, and sometimes she comes out alright, but other times...". He stopped short, shaking his head sadly before continuing. "He's done changed her, ma'am, and it ain't for the better."

"Does the cast know?" Patricia asked, sensing he would soon be leaving.

The man pulled back a little, looking at the remaining vouchers in his hand, before replying, "They're fans, ma'am."

"Of Rowan?"

"Of both. That's the life everybody wants, ma'am, and they ain't no different. They like their dinner parties enough to keep their denial. They don't wanna see what I see."

With that, he nodded his goodbyes and turned and left, disappearing out the studio door. Patricia turned back to the stage, silently thanking the universe for dropping so much useful information into her lap so quickly. She looked up as the lights in the studio dimmed and heard the director giving Lillian and her co-star--a small, petite, younger female Patricia didn't recognize--some cues before calling "Action!" as the set fell into hushed silence. 

Patricia knew not much would happen during filming, but she was surprised by how much she enjoyed watching the goings on, and two hours later the lights came back up, and there was a call to break for lunch. She hesitated, watching inconspicuously as Rowan walked over to his wife, resting his hand on her shoulder. They exchanged a loving glance at each other, but Patricia couldn't help but think that even from this distance, his grip looked awfully tight. She walked swiftly to the nearest stand outside the studio--a hoagie seller, the Jersey girl in her was pleased--and returned quickly, hoagie in hand, to the stands, not wanting to miss anything. 

She was halfway through her sandwich when she noticed Lillian stand and walk elegantly to her dressing room. She waited to see if Rowan would follow, and after a short conversation with the producer he followed, ducking behind the sets to the far end of the building.

Patricia looked around frantically, stuffing her hoagie back into its paper bag and walking over to a skinny production assistant. 

"Excuse me," she asked quietly, "where are the restrooms?"

He glanced up at her, taking in the t-shirt she was wearing with a smirk before nodding toward the same direction Lillian's dresser was located and said, "At the back, last door on the left. Don't go too far, they got the trailers back there."

Patricia nodded thankfully, disappearing behind the set and following his instructions. She slipped inside the restroom--no pretense here, she did actually have to use it--and then exited a few minutes later, scanning the hall for any signs of crew of higher ups.

Thankfully, this part of the set was devoid of both, and she walked slowly along the wall, peering into the darkness beyond the bathroom area and spotting a pretty looking trailer--more like an RV with glitz--sitting about 20 feet away, with the name 'Lillian Fallon' stamped in letters on the door. She breathed, looking around to see if anyone was coming her way, and was about to sneak off in that direction when she heard two voices approaching. 

She quickly half-ran back to the restroom door, pretending to be exiting just in case, when Lillian and Rowan swept by, too immersed in conversation to notice. (Truthfully, the glaring obviousness of her status as an underling might've done much to render her invisible to them, regardless.)

"Rowan Fallon" Lillian said in a tone that was half-admonishing, half-weary.

 _First and last name, that's wild,_ Patricia thought to herself. _Don't these people just call each other 'honey' like regular people?_

"You're getting squishy, Lillian, I'm trying to be nice about it."

She watched Lillian pull self-consciously on her dress before replying in a gentle tone, "I don't know, Rowan Fallon, I've been careful about my weight, I--"

"You're not even careful about your craft, Lillian, that's why you're doing soaps" Rowan snapped, shooting her a terse glance. Lillian stopped in her tracks, and Patricia watched as Rowan put a hand around her upper arm and said, "Don't forget to tell the press how nice I was on your birthday."

Lillian furrowed her brows in confusion and said, "...what do you...?"

"Make something up, darling. What nobody's around to see no one can argue."

And with that, Rowan disappeared back out onto the set, leaving Lillian standing awkwardly alone in the dark corridor. Patricia was afraid she would turn around and spot her, peering out from the corridor, but thankfully, Lillian collected herself after a few moments and followed him, smiling jovially the minute she hit the set. 

Patricia followed at an inconspicuous distance, reclaiming her seat and sitting quietly for the rest of filming, a lump in her throat. 

_No wonder Randi wants to nail this guy_ she thought, looking over at Rowan, now standing beside the director as filming commenced. 

She realized then what is was about him that was so unsettling. He looked so calm, so normal, so unlike what you'd expect from the movies about nutcases and crazy spouses. He looked like anyone else, so unassuming Patricia herself had to admit she wouldn't have been put off had she been in Lillian's shoes. What was it her father used to say?

_"Can't never spot a viper in the grass, even if you're looking at it. They have a way of blending in with everything else."_


	12. Chapter 12

"How's lunch?" Joe asked, walking into the conference room.

"If you're gonna bitch about my ham sandwich and fries I don't want to hear it!" Lynn snapped before he could say anything else.

"Relax, I was just making conversation" he replied, raising his hands in self-defense. "Eat what you will."

Lynn was staring at the stapler sitting between them, ready to throw it against the side of his head when Viveca came waltzing in, plopping down beside her.

"Fries look good" she said, smiling at Lynn as she opened her container of fried rice.

"You want?" Lynn offered, holding up the small styrofoam box they were sitting in. 

Viveca shook her head. "No thanks, but thank you. I've gotta finish these leftovers."

Joe watched from his seat as Lynn set the box back down, and waited a few moments before saying, "You not gonna offer me any?"

Lynn looked up at him, hesitating before saying, "No."

He rolled his eyes, stabbing a fork into his curry dish--homemade, she'd already asked--and sulked in his chair.

"How's the case coming?" Viveca asked, looking up at Lynn.

"Terrible" Lynn answered honestly. "Between the molestation accusations and the child abuse there isn't a bright spot in this case."

"So we're representing a child molester?"

Lynn pressed her lips together, shifting uncomfortably. "I've done it before" she replied defensively, shooting Viveca a stern glare. "Besides, I have to take into account that what he was saying was true: the girl was getting abused, there's no doubt about that. It's a question of whether she wanted to leave with him because she trusted him or because he groomed her that's the problem. And anyway, I'm not gonna let happen what happened last time. I'm gonna do what I can to make sure the girl gets out of that home, by sticking it to the prosecution, and then I'm nailing that sick son of a bitch."

"And how are you gonna do that?" Viveca asked ruefully.

Lynn shifted again, looking at her from the corner of her eye as she admitted, "I haven't figured that out yet."

"You may not have to do anything" Joe offered from his side of the table.

Lynn and Viveca stared at him quizzically before Lynn said, "...What?"

Joe shook his head, wiping his hands and leaning forward. "You've been all over the news, right?"

"Yeah" Lynn answered slowly, shrugging blankly.

"The case is big shit, right?"

Lynn nodded, still confused and now feeling agitated. "Yes..."

"So what do you think the diocese is gonna do with a priest who's been all over the news for molesting a little girl?"

Lynn jerked her head back in shock, glancing at Viveca in surprise.

"They're gonna nail him, whether they even want to or not. No way any church in Cali is gonna let that guy back in its doors--he's done."

Lynn looked at him in shock, letting the words sink in.

"The only thing any church cares about is reputation, and once someone shits all over theirs its over. He won't have a place to roost, not for a long time."

Lynn looked down at the table momentarily before looking back up at him. "Thanks, Joe" she said, still shocked that he'd said something that hadn't totally pissed her off.

Joe shrugged nonchalantly, picking his fork back up. "No one hates a child molester more than I do. You need any help, I'll see what I can do."

Lynn smiled, hesitating before sliding the fries toward him. Joe looked down at the box, smirking at her before taking a few and sliding the box back across the table.

Viveca watched as he bit into them, the crunch of salt and seasonings on potato skin too appetizing to pass up. 

"Okay, maybe I will have one" she said, smiling at Lynn as she slid the box over to her.


	13. Chapter 13

Andres looked up at the ceiling, eyeing the large chandelier that hung just beyond the front doors curiously, realizing that Randi hadn't lied when she said the boutique was upscale. He wasn't sure what the purpose was for the chandelier--beyond its function as a status symbol--but he did have to admit that the light bouncing off the while tile that lined the floor, walls, and ceiling was doing its job.

Randi had dragged him into her office, dropping a shopping bag on the counter and shutting her office door.

_"What is this about?" Andres had asked curiously, eyeing her as she tossed the clothes onto her desk._

_"I need you to go incognito" she replied simply, holding a sweater up against his chest and narrowing her eyes as she struggled to make up her mind._

_"...In Valentino...?" he asked curiously, his eyes nearly falling out of his head at the sight of the label._

_Randi pursed her lips in annoyance, pausing before saying, "My husband had a few good pieces--nice pieces--that he collected over the years, and they're not gonna serve you in any high end store wearing a Gap sweater and Men's Warehouse slacks."_

_"This is Ralph Lauren, I'm not five" he shot back, pulling on the sweater._

_"And the slacks?" she asked, jutting out her hip._

_"...You bought these" he answered softly, watching her face fall._

_"Oh, right, well...well my original point still stands, that you can't go in there dressed like this, and my budget doesn't support the likes of these places, which is why I got you those pants."_

_"So I'm wearing your husbands leftovers?" Andres asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust._

_"You dated his leftovers, what's the difference?" Randi said, attempting to make a joke. As soon as she saw his face fall she knew she'd made a mistake, and she touched his arm gently as she said, "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is you're close enough to the same size that they hopefully won't turn you out, and I really need this favor."_

_Andres eyed her carefully, sighing before taking the clothes and walking off to the bathroom to change, coming back after a few minutes to let Randi survey her work._

_"Looks good" she said softly, touching his shoulder as she admired the way her husband's old Valentino sweater and pants hung on Andres' muscular frame. Any discrepancies in size were quickly lost to the shape his muscular physique provided, giving the clothes a fitted appearance that she had many times appreciated when he wore his own clothes._

_"We'll see" he said, wondering if it would be enough to fool an eagle-eyed boutique dresser._

_"As good as you look they won't care" she teased, biting her lip and looking away quickly after, and ushering him out of the office._

Andres saw a young woman approaching, and shoved his hands elegantly in his pockets, fixing her with a flirtatious stare that almost always worked wonders.

His charms unfailing, he watched as the girl smiled coquettishly, flinging her ponytail as she asked, "Anything I can do for you?"

He let his eyes drift over her name tag, knowing she wouldn't mind. The name Chelsea was printed in big, bold letters on a small black background. Wrong girl.

"I'm looking for Jen or Tabitha" he said, watching her face fall first in disappointment before her eyebrows rose curiously.

It wasn't until Andres started dating Randi that he noticed how pliable women his age were, but now that he noticed, he wondered why he'd ever bothered with them. 

He watched as she nodded, disappearing behind the counter and paging them both. A few minutes later, two other girls, about the same age, appeared in front of him. They were friendlier looking, less stuck-up in contrast, but still perfumed with the air of importance that Andres guessed you needed to survive working in this place.

"Hi" one of them--Tabitha--said, looking at him curiously. "How can we help you?"

"You dress the actor Rowan Fallon, right? I've seen the pictures in the magazines." Randi has schooled Andres on how to approach the situation.

_"Come right out with an attorney card and they'll blab, or shut down. Make like you saw Rowan in a magazine wearing their stuff, and go from there."_

He noticed the ever so slight grimace that passed over their faces before Tabitha smiled and nodded. "We do, his wife too. Not all of their stuff, but they're fairly regular. You want what he usually gets?"

"Not necessarily, but we can start there. I like his look, just need to work it to fit my style" he said, smiling boyishly, knowing it would loosen them up.

He followed them to the back of the boutique, up a flight of stairs where he soon realized only the most important--i.e. wealthy--were allowed to venture. 

"Mr. Fallon usually likes a two-button single-breasted, since he's so lean. I don't know if that will work for you" Jen said, glancing at Andres' bulging arms.

"Yes, I remember noticing...um, what do you think would work for someone not so lean?" he asked modestly, cocking his head.

"We can start with a three-button" Tabitha ventured, handing him a jacket off the rack. 

The fact that they were accommodating without being flirty put Andres at ease, and soon he was trying on jackets, remembering not to spend more than what Lynn had generously allowed Randi from the budget. She knew if they could win this case they'd make more than enough to pay back what they might be spending.

"Bet you two have a lot of interesting stories for your folks at home" Andres said eventually, glancing briefly up at Jen in the mirror. 

"Everyone has stories about Mr. Fallon" she replied quickly, a displeased smirk crossing her face.

Like he was the night when Randi spoke with Manuel, Andres was surprised at how willing they were to talk. He realized that, great artist or not, those that occupied the lower echelons of Hollywood society (which outnumbered those at the top) were more than willing to speak honestly about the experiences of being on the receiving end of less than stellar treatment.

"That bad?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"You a fan?" Tabitha asked swiftly, a nervous expression drawing over her face. 

"No! No, definitely not" he said just as fast, watching her face relax just a touch. "No, I've heard the whispers, although not much."

Jen and Tabitha shot each other weary glances before Jen said, "It's not so much how he is with us--it's how he treats his wife."

"Unkind?"

Another look between them before she answered, "That's putting it nicely."

"How is she?"

"Mrs. Fallon?" Tabitha asked. "Oh, very kind, she's very nice, unassuming. She never gives us any trouble, doesn't come in that much either, just when the bruis--"

She stopped short, realizing she'd said too much and shaking her head, starting to retract what she had said when Andres held up a hand to hush her, looking at the staircase to make sure no one was headed their way. 

"I need your help" he said anxiously, shoving his and Randi's cards their way. "We're trying to help Mrs. Fallon, and we need to know what you know."

"Help her?" Jen asked curiously, looking up at him.

"The bruises" he answered simply, knowing offering much else could ruin their case. Randi had been smart, having a hundred or so cards printed off with only their names and a number on them, and nothing else. That way if the girls turned on them, no one would know where the information was going, unless they plugged the names in a computer, but that was a risk they would have to take. She'd even listed a burner phone number on the cards, in hopes that would throw off suspicion. No one could conclusively say they were the only Randi King and Andres Diaz in Los Angeles. 

They looked down at the cards again, then at each other, and finally up at Andres. 

"Manuel sent me" he offered, hoping this would ease their minds. 

"Our friend, Manuel, Manuel Lowes at Rivers & Sons?" Tabitha asked, her face brightening. 

"Yep" Andres answered, glad to see that put them at ease. 

"He has a Rowan Fallon story too, you know" Tabitha said, raising an eyebrow.

"I know, it's why he sent me."

Tabitha looked down again, nodding her head before saying, "What do you need us to do?"

"Call the number on the card when you get a chance, and Randi will take care of things from there."

Andres thanked both of them, sliding them a tip and taking the blazer downstairs, sweating as he forked over the $2000 on the price tag before ducking out of the store.

He slid behind the wheel of his car and called Randi as soon as he was safely inside.

"Keep your burner close by--I think you'll be getting some phone calls pretty soon" he said, hoping Tabitha and Jen would make good on their word. 


	14. Chapter 14

"And where did you get that information from?"

"One of the crew members...I didn't get his name..."

_"Patricia!"_

Patricia shrank back, looking up at Randi, cringing at the sound of Randi's angry voice rising in the otherwise silent office as she glared down at her.

"Look, I know, but in my defense he came up to me out of the blue, and I didn't want to get him in trouble! He was already scared, Randi, plus the stuff in the hallway I heard myself, so I can testify to that if need be."

Randi stared angrily at Patricia for a few more moments, then sat slowly down in her chair, slouching as she leaned against it. She pondered what Patricia had said for a few more moments before she spoke again.

"Fine, you make a good point. Thank you, I know this must've been nerve-wracking for you, and in truth I wouldn't have been able to get this information otherwise."

"I'm sorry, Randi, I didn't mea--"

Randi held up a hand to stop her. "No, it's fine, really. You did me a big service going out there, and I'll do what I can with what you heard. Anything else worth mentioning?"

Patricia looked down for a moment, thinking back on the afternoon she had just spent on the lot--and the two lunches she'd scarfed down to keep her nerves in check. 

"...I guess, if there's anything I did notice, it was how normal they seemed. I mean, Rowan, mostly. It's like the image and the truth don't fit together. It's so odd."

"Not really" Randi countered, twirling her pen on her desk. "These people are practiced, in the same way we are, I suppose. They're so used to living the image that they eventually become it; it's not that strange when you think about it."

Patricia nodded slowly, turning in her chair as Andres came into the office. 

"Did they call you?" he asked breathlessly, tossing the shopping bag into a chair in the corner.

"They're coming to see me at two tomorrow, they both have the day off" Randi said, motioning for Patricia to leave.

"Thank you" she called after her as Patricia slowly shut the door.

"You busy tonight?" Randi asked, watching Andres' eyebrows lift in surprise.

"Uh-um--"

"I mean to help with the case" Randi said, realizing what he was thinking, and kicking herself for not asking the question differently.

She watched as a brief flash of anger crossed Andres' face, before he looked away from her and shifted, replying coolly, "Sure."

"If you have to pick up Matthew--"

"I don't," he said tersely, turning and walking away from her, calling over his shoulder, "just say when" before disappearing out of sight.

Randi sighed heavily, the guilt over what she'd done to him rising in her again. Usually, she would've shoved it down, but this time she simply let herself feel it, realizing that maybe it was necessary. 

She knew the situation between them was complicated, like a bloody war in which there are no winners. On one side, a fractured woman too afraid to love, on the other, a man so deeply in love that the feeling was no longer beautiful, but devastating. 


	15. Chapter 15

The house that Randi pulled up to was comfortable looking, but not overly large, and certainly not the sort of home one would've expected of an actor. 

As she stepped out of the car, she realized that though successful, this man was only modestly so by Hollywood standards, and certainly not in the same tier as Rowan and Lillian. No three-car garage overlooking ten acres with a golf cart stashed in a far corner of the driveway. This house was an older, hacienda style structure, nestled on the corner of a comfortable, not so flashy neighborhood. 

"You really sure it's safe to be here?" Andres asked skeptically, his eyes traveling over the house, and the darkness that hung around them.

"Lillian told me she thought he was trustworthy" she countered, thinking back to the call that had come through to her office the day before. The voice on the other end had surprised her, but by the sounds in the background--or lack thereof--Randi deduced it was made from somewhere private.

_"Greg Goldman" Lillian said softly into the receiver. Randi could tell from her hushed tone that she was making every effort not to be overheard._

_"Are you alone?" Randi asked nervously, hoping she wasn't jeopardizing her safety, or their case._

_"In my trailer" Lillian replied, her tone still hushed._

_Nerves, Randi realized, waiting for her to continue._

_"He was on an episode of Fairfield Estates a few years ago. I told him some things I've never told anyone else I've ever worked with" she said fearfully, hoping that in that time her confidences hadn't been betrayed to the wrong person._

_"You think he's trustworthy?" Randi asked doubtfully._

_"I wouldn't have confided in him if I didn't think he wasn't" Lillian replied simply, drawing in a shaky breath._

_Randi hesitated, looking down at her lap before saying, "Are you alright?"_

_There was a silence on the other end, and Randi knew she had her answer._

The rustle of grass underfoot was the only sound as Randi crossed over the small patch of lawn and onto the driveway, walking toward the front door. She'd phoned in another favor to her friend Diane, hoping she could work her magic.

_"Greg Goldman?" Diane said into the receiver. Randi could tell she was furrowing her eyebrows in confusion._

_"That's the name she gave me" Randi replied simply, wishing Diane would just do what was asked and leave the questioning to her._

_"He's hardly big-time" Diane said, wrinkling her nose. "No offense, I just--"_

_"Most of my sources aren't" Randi countered, feeling her patience waning. "Can you get him for me or not?"_

_"Same spiel I used to get Patricia in the door?"_

_Randi paused, turning this over in her head. "No, tell him it's regarding Lillian Fallon's work on Fairfield Estates."_

_"Sure you wanna stick your foot out that far?"_

_"She promised he was trustworthy."_

As Randi walked up the front porch and knocked on the front door, she prayed Lillian was right. She was surprised when Diane had phoned back an hour later, saying Greg had wanted them to come to his house for dinner. 

_"I have a feeling he knows what it's about" Diane said cryptically before hanging up the phone._

There was a brief pause before the knob turned and the door opened. The man on the other side was slight, and distinct looking. Not a Hollywood type, no roguish handsomeness about him, but good looking in his own, distinct way.

"Randi King?" he asked nervously, popping his eyebrows both in curiosity and anxiousness.

"Yes, are you Greg Goldman?" 

"I am" he answered, his shoulders slumping slightly in relief as he led them inside. 

"I'm sorry to bombard you like this--"

"No. no, I've known Diane for a few years. I was the one who wanted you here; didn't seem smart meeting in public."

"So do you...?"

Greg hesitated, looking over his shoulder at the liquor cabinet that sat in the corner of his living room.

"Drink first?" he offered, rubbing his hands together.


	16. Chapter 16

_“As our circle of knowledge expands, so does the circumference of darkness surrounding it.”_

-Albert Einstein

~~~~

Randi sat down in the comfortable, elegant recliner that sat in the center of the living room. The interior of the house was much like the exterior, not flashy but beautiful, and artfully done.

She balanced the martini glass precariously in her hand, crossing her legs slowly so as not to spill any of it on the cream colored carpet under her feet, glancing over at Andres, who sat on the sofa against the front wall of the home, just below the living room window.

Greg replaced the stopper in the whiskey decanter, walking over to where they were seated and taking a seat on the sofa opposite Andres. From the brief glance he threw his way, Randi realized that Andres' intimidated stature was once again a deterrent. 

"Where should I begin?" Greg asked softly, looking up at Randi as he set his tumbler on the coffee table. 

"Where ever you'd like" she answered gently, smiling at him. In truth, she knew he was sticking his neck out for her, the threat of getting found out looming over his head. No way he'd ever work again if he was exposed as an informant before Randi could take this thing to court. The weighty shadow of Rowan Fallon pressed down on seemingly every aspect of Hollywood, and sometimes she wondered how many kings there really were here, versus pawns. 

"I only had a small part on _Fairfield Estates_ , only one episode, nothing important."

"Your character didn't stir up any trouble, then?" Randi joked, hoping to put him at ease.

She felt a pang of regret when he tensed slightly, glancing away from her briefly before he said softly, "No."

Randi bit her lip, glancing again at Andres out of nervousness, and was in the process of saying something when Greg spoke again.

"I was a minor player, in the fourth season."

"Which episode?" Randi asked. She already knew which one, but wanted to see if he'd be honest with her, even on a minor point.

"The second episode. Again, I wasn't anything sensational, not in comparison to what usually happens on that show. Just a small part, but I worked closely with Lillian for the week that it took to rehearse and shoot the show, and got to know her decently well."

"She opened up to you?" Randi asked. Looking at him, she could see why. There was something in the soft, unassuming air that relaxed you, and for a woman like Lillian that feeling was no doubt oft-sought but fleeting.

"You could say that. I'm not claiming to know her life story, but she did tell me something I think you'll probably want to know, given what you're doing for her."

At this Randi stiffened. "You looked me up?"

Greg nodded. "Diane gave me your real name; I had a feeling...". 

Randi hadn't forbidden this exactly, but she had sort of hoped Diane would be smart enough to give him a fake name, or at least a fictitious background story like she did Patricia. After a few seconds, she decided the worry wasn't worth it. Tabitha and Jen had her name on the cards Andres gave them--albeit otherwise blank cards, no tie to her workplace mentioned there--but given that Lillian had supplied his name and he had reached out so soon in agreement, she figured if he wanted to screw her he could've done so by now. She had half-expected hitmen lying in wait in the shadows of the kitchen. 

"So...then..." Randi stared to saying, stalling after a few seconds, not sure how to continue. 

Greg looked at Randi carefully, his expression becoming strained with sadness before he said quietly, "Did Lillian tell you about the...sexual abuse?"

Randi felt her head jerk back, starring at him in stunned silence. "Sex abuse?" she mumbled, too shocked to say anything else. 

"So she didn't tell you?"

"...No" she whispered, feeling a chill run down her spine. She was no stranger to the concept, her husband having taken what he wanted when he wanted it, but she was shocked that she hadn't recognized another victim when she stood in front of her.

Greg smiled sadly, his eyes drifting to the floor as he remembered his time with Lillian. "'The best kind of abuse', that's what she'd called it. I remember asking what she meant by that, and she shrugged and said, 'It's the only kind no one can see. You can feel it, you know it's happening, but it's like a glass shard in your skin--only you know it's there'."

Randi felt another shiver travel through her body before she felt Andres reach over and touch her forearm. She looked up at him, and he was studying her very carefully, his brow creased with worry. 

"I'm okay" she answered gratefully, rubbing his hand affectionately. It was the first moment of affection they'd exchanged in a long time, and she didn't realize until it happened how deeply she'd missed it.

He hesitated, looking at her for a few more moments before withdrawing, settling back against the sofa.

"I didn't meant to upset you" Greg said apologetically, noticing the expression on Randi's face. 

"Oh, no," Randi answered smoothly, collecting herself quickly before smiling at him, "my past upsets me--you didn't." She gave away more than she intended to with that statement, but decided that since Greg was giving up a lot, she could return the favor, so to speak.

Greg nodded sympathetically, shaking his head as he said, more to himself than to her, "It's amazing what some people get away with, isn't it?"

"That's what I'm trying to prevent" Randi answered firmly, her face darkening angrily. "Did she tell you anything else...?"

"Just that it happened quite frequently" Greg said, rolling the whiskey in his glass so that it sloshed against the sides.

Randi was about to say something when she noticed the expression on his face, and wisely decided against it. Something told her that in his next breath would be the next bit of information she needed. 

"Have you spoken to her former assistant?" he asked quietly, looking up at her.

"No" Randi said. Lillian hadn't mentioned an assistant that might be of use, and Randi--stupidly, she now realized--hadn't thought to ask her about any of the people who work--or had once worked--in the Fallon household.

"He's a novelist now" he said, glancing at his bookshelf. "I don't have anything of his, but he's done well."

"What's the name?"

"Lance Kingley. He's worth a lot, but keeps a low profile. He was working there when I met Lillian."

By there, Randi knew he meant the Fallon house. "So his star's risen since then, I take it?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"More than mine!" Greg replied, laughing self-deprecatingly. 

Randi smiled, rising to her feet and reaching out a hand to him. "I can't thank you enough" she said sincerely. She knew there was no way to express her deep appreciation, but she hoped he felt it, nonetheless.

"I haven't done anything" Greg answered modestly, taking her and Andres' glasses back to the liquor cabinet and walking them both to the door. 

"I'll protect you" Randi said fiercely, stepping out onto the front porch. 

"Don't worry about me" he said, looking up at the night sky. "Hollywood has protected Rowan Fallon long enough. You do what you need to do, and don't worry about the rest of us. We'll be here long after the smoke clears."

Randi smiled, thanking him again and walking back to her car.

She felt Andres touch the small of her back as they descended the driveway, and looked up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked cautiously, rubbing her back gently as he studied her.

Randi opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, opening her arms instead and pulling him into a hug. She squeezed him gratefully, pulling back wordlessly as they walked in silence the rest of the way. 


	17. Chapter 17

"Lance Kingley?" Lynn asked, wrinkling her nose in thought.

"Doesn't ring a bell?"

She and Randi were headed back from lunch, having shared a meal at Lynn's request. She hadn't said much, but she'd been thinking about Randi since she took on this case, and she knew that if Randi needed help she'd never ask for it, so she'd waltzed into Randi's office and insisted they eat together, knowing that if Randi was in front of her she'd be more inclined to divulge any concerns.

"No, not really. Did Goldman say what'd he'd written?"

"No, just that he's well known. Apparently his star has risen quite a bit since he worked for Lillian, but I don't know much else. I searched around on the internet, but there's nothing really noteworthy. He's gotten a lot of notice, but I thought to see if any of you had heard of him first."

Lynn shook her head. "No, I haven't, I'm sorry. Are you going to meet with him, or...?"

Randi shrugged, smiling at Lynn. "I don't have a choice, no way can I send Patricia or Andres alone."

"You're gonna tell him you're an attorney?" Lynn asked in disbelief.

"No!" Randi exclaimed, shaking her head. "No, I'm a journalist, writing for the _L.A. Times_ , as far as he knows." She glanced over at Lynn, an apologetic expression crossing her face. "I know I'm playing it fast and loose--"

"No, no," Lynn said quickly, "I've always told you all to do what was necessary to get the truth. It's dishonest, but if everyone was honest we wouldn't have jobs." She paused, cocking her head. "What guise are you traveling under this time?"

Randi shrugged again, opening her mouth but hesitating, before she finally said, "To be honest, I'm not sure. I'm going to tell him I'm writing about the Fallon's and wanted to speak to people who'd worked for them, and feel it out from there. Best case scenario, I get what I wanted. Worst case, I get useless fluff and I have to go somewhere else. It's all grunt work at this point."

"Did those two girls show?"

"We'll know by the time we get back, they're due at two" Randi said, pulling on her jacket.

She and Lynn were just gliding through the office doors when Patricia looked up from her desk. 

"Tabitha and Jen are here to see you" she said quietly, motioning toward the waiting room.

Randi turned to see two unassuming but confident looking young women starring curiously at her. 

"Jen, Tabitha?" she asked, walking over to them.

"Yes" Tabitha answered, smiling and offering her hand. Her smile suddenly faded, along with her confidence, and a worried glance overtook her face. "We won't get in trouble for this, will we?"

Randi shook her head resolutely, squeezing her arm comfortingly. "All I ask is that you be honest, and you have my word that I'll make sure no one finds out you were here."

At this, Tabitha relaxed and smiled, and they followed Randi into her office, sitting opposite her desk as she closed the door. 


	18. Chapter 18

"Hey drama school, make yourself useful and hand me a knife" Rex said, shooting Patricia a look as he sat at the kitchen table, steam rising off the steak in front of him.

He smirked as Patricia rolled her eyes and shot him a dirty look, slamming the door on the microwave and opening the cutlery drawer, walking over to the table as she said, "For your information, I'm a double-agent now, so I'd lose the attitude."

Rex popped his eyebrows at her as he said, "Listen, Bubbly Spice, throwing on a t-shirt and licking hoagie wrappers isn't enough to faze me. Call me when you're trawling Skid Row at 3 a.m. looking for a client, then we'll talk."

Patricia rolled her eyes, turning on her heels and walking back toward the microwave.

"Save me some?" Viveca asked as she walked into the kitchen and eyed Rex's steak.

Rex looked up at her, smirking as he retorted, "When you earn it, you can eat it."

"Fuck off, Rex" Viveca shot back, smiling in spite of herself as she sat down across from him, twirling her pasta around her fork.

"Randi's case sure is something" Patricia said, sitting down between them.

Rex waved his hand, shooting her a glance. "You sure a great American hero like yourself should be sitting with us?"

Viveca snorted, chuckling to herself as Patricia's mouth fell open. 

"I managed to stomach you before" she shot back, drawing approving glances from both of them.

"Nice one" Viveca said, smiling at Patricia. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Patricia smiled gleefully as she took a bite of her lunch, looking up at Rex and asking, "Anything interesting happening in your corner of the office?"

"If by interesting, you mean salacious, then no."

"No prostitutes clamoring for help this week?" Viveca asked, shooting him a look.

"No," Rex said slowly, taking a sip of his drink, "that was last week. I'm helping my brother this week, nothing fancy, just trying to make sure he's taken care of at the place he's at."

"You're a good brother" Viveca said, sincerely, knowing his brother's troubles were Rex's soft spot.

"Do what I can" he answered modestly, taking another bite of steak. 

Viveca took the hint, changing the topic as she said, "Nice and quiet in here without Joe--" 

"Hey guys!" Joe called out, walking into the kitchen, the proud swing of his arms indicating he would be more annoying than usual today.

"What was that, Viveca?" Rex asked loudly, shooting her a grin.

"I said I'm sure Joe could help you with your morning workout" she shot back, smirking at him widely as she watched Rex's face fall as Joe spun around excitedly.

"We can buddy run!" Joe said excitedly, grinning at Rex. 

Rex lifted his soda can, throwing Joe a fake smile before hiding his face behind his hand and mouthing to Viveca, "I'm gonna kill you" as Joe prattled on about macros, micros, and miles to go. 


	19. Chapter 19

Randi's convertible hugged the corner as she flew around the bend, traveling quickly up the hillside. The house that they'd been directed to--or, mansion, to be more precise--was situated in the hills of Los Angeles, far away from the rest of society. 

Obtaining the clearance to pass through the gate had been no easy feat: Randi first had to jump through hoops to get a hold of Lance Kingley, and then through more hoops to get him (i.e. his assistant) to agree to allow an interview. Then, Randi had run down to the Enterprise on the corner, realizing that driving her own vehicle didn't seem like the brightest idea. Could he trace her license plate? She wasn't sure, but she didn't want to find out, so she got herself an upscale convertible just in case. (Another hit to the budget Lynn had generously allowed.) Then, Andres' new jacket, nicer slacks, and a wardrobe change for her and they were set to go, flying now up the hills to the home of Lillian's former assistant.

"Did those girls tell you anything useful?" Andres asked, looking over at her.

Randi sighed. "Mostly, it was similar to what Manuel told me, but they had more for me to go on. They've seen the Fallon's more, seen a bruise or two that Lillian tried to explain away."

"Were they scared?" 

"Oh yeah, who wouldn't be? Thrust in the center of a high profile divorce that no one but us knows about--not exactly a twenty-somethings idea of a good time."

"...Are you?" Andres asked softly, still staring at her.

Randi pressed her lips together, hesitating before looking back at him. "I don't have time to be, Andres. I have a job to do."

"That's not the point, Randi."

"That _is_ the point, Andres!" Randi snapped, her temper getting the best of her.

She watched as his expression changed, first to surprise, then to a menacing glare. Like her, Andres had a hot temper, and, like her, he did not appreciate being yelled at. Since their breakup, it seemed to Randi they had done more yelling than when they were together, mostly over trivial things.

She sighed, looking back at the road, pausing before saying quietly, "I'm sorry, Andres. It's just, this case--"

"Don't worry about it" he said tersely, turning away from her and staring out the window. 

Randi glanced at him, shaking her head and focusing on the road until they finally reached their destination, passing by well-kept greenery and up a winding driveway before coming to a halt at the front of the house, all one-sided glass and steel beams. 

She threw the car in park, shutting it off and grabbing Andres' arm before he had a chance to angrily shut the door on her. 

"Andres."

"What?" he asked angrily, glaring at her.

She stared at him, not saying anything and waiting until he calmed down. After a few seconds, he looked away, sighing heavily and repeating, "What?", but calmer this time.

"I can't do this without you, Andres" she said softly, watching him glance at her in surprise. When he didn't say anything, she continued, "I need you to do your part so that I can do mine, because I can't go it alone. I need you to have my back in case something goes wrong, and put your feelings aside, because I am scared, Andres, but I have to do this."

Andres sighed again, staring at the ground before finally replying, "Okay."

Randi hesitated, studying his dark, pretty hair and sad eyes before she reached up and stroked his shoulder. 

"It's gonna be okay, Andres, I promise" she said softly, fighting back tears.

She saw his lip quiver before he bit it in frustration and quietly said, "Okay" again, not looking at her. 

With that, they opened the doors of the convertible and marched toward the front door, ringing the buzzer. A clear, robust voice asked, "Yes?"

"Mr. Kingley is expecting us, I'm the reporter from the _L.A. Times_ " Randi called, hearing the voice breathing softly on the other end. 

There was a brief pause before the door clicked and swung open, revealing a thin, reedy looking man of about sixty. He studied them curiously, surveying the badges Randi had printed up that said _L.A. Times Staff_ below a picture of her face. After a moment, he stepped aside, ushering them in to the dark, quiet house and saying, "I'll go get Mr. Kingley, he'll only be a moment."

They followed him into a spacious, lofty living room, with the high, vaulted ceilings one would expect of a home such as this. There were thin, porcelain vases in one corner, tiger lily's stretching out of them, and a large, nondescript sculpture in the center of the room on the coffee table. A fire place sat in the distance, and between it and them, two sofas and two armchairs. 

In spite of the expensive furnishings and the warm silence, there was something almost foreboding about the house. Not malicious, exactly, but it's openness and continuous spread of glass around them made it seem more like a museum, and less like a home. There was nothing in the living room or area beyond that would indicate anything about the owner's personality. 

Before she had time to think any longer, a figure came into view at the far end of the room. 

"Ms. King?" 

Randi turned to see a plain, unadorned man standing beside the fireplace, looking at her curiously.

"Yes, and this is my assistant, Andres" she said, motioning to her right. "You're Mr. Kingley, I take it?"

"I am. Please, take a seat, can I get you anything?"

"Oh no, no thank you" Randi said politely, sitting beside Andres on one of the sleek, low sofas. 

"This is about Mr. and Mrs. Fallon, isn't it?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Yes, well," Randi paused, licking her lips and shifting as she smiled, "we're doing a piece on the former employees of the well-known in L.A., and we wanted to speak with you especially, since you've done so well for yourself."

"When you say piece, you mean...?"

"Oh no, not salacious, no!" Randi exclaimed waving her hand. "No, we just want to do a follow-up of sorts, see what the people who used to work for the rich are doing now, how their former jobs might've set them on the path to success, that sort of thing. This will mostly be about you, but we thought you could shed some light on the Fallon's while we're here."

"Light?" Lance said, half-scoffing to himself. "I don't know what light you believe I can shed, certainly not in any interesting corners."

The phrase piqued Randi's attention. It told her two things: one, that he did indeed know something valuable, and two, that he was less than willing to divulge it.

"Interesting corners?" Randi said, her whip-quick mind attempting to box him in.

He cocked his head slightly, smiling thinly at her. "Interesting doesn't necessarily mean bad, Ms. King."

"Doesn't mean good, either" she countered, setting him with a firm gaze. She knew, truthfully, she'd have to keep her temper and mouth in check. Lillian hadn't been thrilled at the prospect of Randi seeing Lance, but had eventually acquiesced, which made Randi all the more curious. 

Lance cocked a brow at her, studying her for a moment before saying, "You're not really here about me, are you?"

Randi froze, but tried to fix an indifferent expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, I--"

"You've heard the rumors about Mr. Fallon, haven't you?"

Randi said nothing, trying anxiously to decide what to say that would encourage him to elaborate without screwing herself--or Lillian--over. 

"She's not that character she plays you know, that dignified, soft thing" Lance said quietly, with the look of someone who'd seen the sides of Lillian Fallon that Randi hadn't. "Neither is he, of course."

"You harbor some resentment toward Mrs. Fallon?" Randi asked, cocking her head.

"No" Lance said plainly. 

"Then what do you mean?"

Lance hesitated, leaning forward and reaching for the water glass he had left on the table earlier. "She's dark."

"Dark?" Randi repeated, furrowing her brow in confusion. 

"Complex" Lance clarified, his voice soft and even-toned. "Multifaceted. You never really know what she'll be or what you'll get."

Randi inhaled slowly, crossing her arms and saying, "I'm sorry, I'm not following."

He looked off into the distance, at the trees beyond the living room window. "She's troubled, very troubled. That's something you'd never read about in the magazines, but I saw it."

"Insecure, you mean?"

Lance nodded, then tilted his head side to side before continuing. "She drank, heavily." When he saw Randi's eyebrows pop, he lifted a hand. "Oh not like that, I mean. No drunken public displays for Mrs. Fallon, I can tell you that." He set the glass back down. "No, no, I mean, she _could_ drink heavily, and did so fairly often. She never got drunk, really, because her tolerance was quite high."

"Well, but I heard--"

"It doesn't matter what you heard" Lance said, stopping her short. "That was all pretend, playing that the alcohol was hitting after a few drinks. The alcohol never hit after only a few drinks, not privately. She could drink and drink, her tolerance was so high. I watched her once, when we were alone in the house--she started in the morning and went on from there, but it didn't faze her one bit." He sighed, glancing at some point beyond Randi. "She was like an enigma, like a person you could never really reach. Living in the world she was living in..." he trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.

"What world?" Randi asked quietly, not wanting to break the track his brain was traveling down.

Lance looked at her, waving his hand carelessly at the city, so wide and vast, beyond the confines of his house. " _That_ world, the one that made her famous. Everybody told Mrs. Fallon who she was before she had the chance to argue it: perfect house, perfect life, perfect marriage. No room for complaints or problems. They sucked it up, those people she worked with."

"Sucked it up...?"

"The stories" Lance replied simply. "They knew her before _Fairfield Estates_ , and they decided that reading about her was the same as knowing her, so they filled her on in who she was." He scoffed, an almost bitter sounding laugh that told Randi he'd seen the lows that contrasted the highs people clamored for. "It's not the same thing. The dream factory that is Hollywood will tell you a lot of things, but it very rarely tells the truth."

"Do you think she knew...?"

"Of course she knew. I said troubled, not stupid. Mrs. Fallon was not stupid, not by a long shot--how could you be, when you become everything everyone's ever wanted? No, no, by the time I came around she had watched the machine twist her so viciously that she decided that the best defense was to grab hold of her image and become that thing you see out there. Lillian Fallon is the most convincing role Mrs. Fallon has ever played."

Randi hesitated, taking it all in. She licked her lips, glancing at the floor and saying softly, "And Mr. Fallon?"

At this, Lance pressed his lips together, averting his gaze, reaching to his right and grabbing a book from the coffee table. "Maybe you should read this" he said, sliding it into Randi's hands.

She looked down, studying it thoughtfully. It was one of Lance's own books, gold-embossed lettering on the front and a large, white house on the cover. The style rang a bell; Randi had seen his books before, passing by them on the odd days she visited the bookstore. They'd never grabbed her eye, so beyond recognizing the artwork, she knew nothing else. 

The title, _The Price of Everything_ , was written across the cover. From the looks of it, Randi could hazard a guess at what it might be about, if only vaguely so. 

"It's fiction, mind you" Lance said, smiling cryptically at her. 

"You haven't told me about Mr. Fallon" Randi countered, finally setting the book in her lap.

Lance averted his eyes, biting his lip before finally saying, "I never really saw much."

"I don't know that I buy th--"

"I didn't say nothing happened" Lance said, cutting her off. "I said I never _saw_ much. But write I did. I wrote a lot."

Before Randi could say anything else, he leaned forward and said softly, "Mr. Fallon is like Mrs. Fallon--not what he seems. But he's different about it."

"In what way?"

"He's much more cunning."


	20. Chapter 20

Randi felt her cellphone vibrate in her pocket as she dropped Andres off in the parking garage of their office building. He turned, watching her dig through her purse and flip it open, waiting to make sure it wasn't anything serious.

"Hello?"

"Randi? It's me, Lynn--are you okay?"

"Oh, Lynn! Yes, yes, we're fine. I'm just dropping Andres off now and then I'll be heading home" Randi said calmly.

She heard Lynn breathe a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank god, I'd been wondering about you all afternoon--how'd the interview go?"

"We'll talk tomorrow, Lynn" Randi said, feeling the exhaustion of the day slowly taking her over. "We're fine, it went fine--tell your friend thank you for covering for us."

Lynn smiled, remembering how excited her friend Torie had been when she called her up to ask her the favor. 

_"You want me to help you guys on a case?" she squealed into the receiver, bouncing in her desk chair._

_"Torie, keep your voice down, this needs to stay low-profile" Lynn hissed, rolling her eyes._

_"Sorry, sorry" Torie replied, looking around to make sure no one heard her._

_"Listen, I've got two employees of mine who need to pretend they're employed by the L.A. Times for this case they're doing. If I give your contact information as their immediate supervisor, can you make sure that if you get a call checking their credentials that you cover for us?"_

_"Oooh, you want me to lie? I'm all in" Torie said, grinning widely._

_"Not lie," Lynn said, shifting uncomfortably, "more like play with the truth."_

_"Whatever, Lynn."_

_"Okay, fine, lie--it's a lie, yes I want you to lie!"_

_"Who to?" Torie asked, furrowing her brows curiously._

_"Well they're meeting with Lance Kingley--"_

_"The writer?"_

_"Yes--"_

_"He's hot shit, worth tons of cash, is it about him??"_

_"No, no! Look: they're meeting with Lance for this case they're working, it's not about him, but if anyone calls and asks about a Randi King or Andres Diaz they work for you, got it?"_

_"You got it" Torie said confidently._

"Alright, I just wanted to make sure you weren't ambushed going up there" Lynn said half-jokingly, looking at the clock--seven-thirty, she thought she probably ought to be getting home herself. 

"I'll fill you in tomorrow, Lynn, you have a good one" Randi said, grateful to Lynn for caring so much.

They said their goodbyes and Randi unlocked the doors to let Andres out. 

"You sure you're okay?" Andres asked Randi, studying her carefully. It threw her off a bit; the ride home had been fairly quiet, the silence between them bordering on frosty. 

Randi smiled gratefully at him and nodded. "I'm going straight home, Andres, I promise."

He looked at her for a moment, an expression she couldn't quite discern crossing his face before he said softly, "Be safe, Randi."

"You too" she said softly.

With that, he shut the door behind him and walked quickly to his car, starting it up and following her out of the parking garage, disappearing into the night as he drove off in the opposite direction.

Randi clicked the radio on, some soft tune she didn't recognize traveling through her speakers when she caught sight of her favorite corner mart up ahead. Still open, brightly lit, and with only one car in the parking lot. She smiled, pulling into an empty space and walking swiftly inside. She walked the aisles, grabbing her favorite sandwich out of the cooler--pumpernickel bread with ham and swiss, a slathering of spicy mustard--exchanging small talk with the clerk as he handed her the receipt, and then disappearing back into the night. 

She had just peeled out of the parking lot and was headed down the street when she noticed her car was tilting. She sighed, fairly certain what was wrong, and pulled over alongside a dimly lit curb, stepping out to see what was the trouble was. Her suspicions were confirmed when she looked at the rear passenger tire--flat. 

Randi thought this was odd, having not noticed anything wrong when she was driving to the mart, and was in the process of leaning down to inspect it when a car pulled up behind her.

"Having trouble ma'am?" a voice called. 

She quickly stood up, her heart beginning to race, when she saw the voice belonged to a short, older man. 

She silently breathed a sigh of relief, half-fearing she would be ambushed, and nodded gratefully. "Yes, yes, seems I've got a flat. It's alright, I've got a phone, I can call for help."

"Well sure, ma'am, that's alright. I might wait with you, if you don't mind--don't really feel comfortable leaving a woman out alone at night."

Randi was about to turn down the offer when she looked around, realizing he had a point. The only light around her was a flickering streetlamp overhead, and a few, equally untrustworthy streetlights off in the distance. Randi wasn't in the habit of accepting help from strangers, but she also wasn't stupid. She'd made enough enemies doing what she did to know that being out after dark all alone could be dangerous.

"Well alright--thank you" Randi said, smiling at him. She was about to open up her car door and reach for her purse when she noticed that the car she'd seen earlier in the corner mart was the same one that was now sitting behind her. She hadn't taken note of it at the time, but looking at it, she realized it was pricey, too pricey for this area of town and certainly too expensive to be sitting in the parking lot of the corner mart.

Just as the flash of realization was dawning, she saw the back door open up, and heard a voice in the darkness. 

"Ms. King."

The light passed over him slowly, but she knew who it was before she even saw him. 

"Rowan Fallon" she replied coolly, taking a step back. She glanced in her passenger's side window, at the purse that sat nestled safely in the center console. Until now, she always thought that was the safest place to keep it. 

"Let's take a drive, shall we?" Even here, under the cover of a dark, chilly Los Angeles night, he was calm, and supremely charming.

It occurred to Randi that screaming would've been an obvious, first choice, but the feel of cold metal pressed against her side told her that silence was the better option.


	21. Chapter 21

"So, you're the famous Randi King" Rowan said calmly, settling back into his seat.

The car slid quietly through the streets of Los Angeles. Randi glanced out the window at the trees and neighborhoods passing by, the dark gently illuminated by the moon in the distance, the soft glow of lamps in living rooms and kitchens. 

"Famous?" she asked icily, looking over at him.

"Near ninety-five percent success rate, I'd call that famous. No wonder my wife sought you out" he said, laughing softly. It wasn't the laugh that usually punctuated his conversations when a microphone was hovering near his face. This laugh was without the warm, guileless ring that audiences usually associated with him; this one was cold, rolling slowly over his tongue and hitting her ears with a sharp metallic clang.

"Who told you?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

At this he laughed, throwing his driver a smirk as he shook his head in disbelief. "Oh come now, Ms. King, it doesn't work like that. I have no shadowy network of informants, if that's what you mean."

"That doesn't answer my question" she shot back. Driving through the night in a stranger's car, not knowing if she'd ever make it home would have usually been enough to scare her, but since escaping her marriage, Randi had learned that where men like Rowan were concerned, fear was a useless emotion. It wouldn't bother him in the same way it never affected her husband. Cry all she wanted to, she still got every last beating. 

Rowan cocked an eyebrow, a bemused expression crossing his face. Randi knew she was kidding herself with the attitude, he still clearly had the upper-hand here.

"You really think some big-shot attorney like you could walk through this town asking questions about me and I wouldn't find out?" 

_No surprise_ , Randi thought to herself. If she'd been honest, the case thus far had been almost too easy. She had to expect something would eventually throw her off course.

"Apparently so" he said, smirking at her. From the expression on her face, he knew he had his answer.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, looking at him closely.

" _Do_ with you?" Another laugh. "I'm not going to _do anything_ with you, or to you. I'm an actor, not a hitman."

"Then why--"

"I just think we need to talk, that's all" Rowan interjected, cutting her off. 

"I'm not at liberty to discu--"

"Drop the attorney spiel, I don't need it" he snapped, growing impatient. He looked away from her briefly, studying the world beyond the car window before turning back to her. "Do you really think this is the first time my wife has tried to get away?" he asked softly, smiling at her.

" _Get away_ , what is she, an animal?" Randi shot back. She could feel her temper getting the best of her, but figured there was no point in caring. 

He didn't answer at first, and Randi could tell he was turning over her response in his head. "My wife belongs to me, Ms. King" he answered simply, crossing his legs. 

As the car drove on he relaxed even further into his seat and looked ahead as he spoke to her; Randi felt like he was narrating a story, not really responding, and she wondered how much practice it took to behave like this and seem so unaffected by it. Maybe none at all.

"See, Ms. King, things don't really work in our world like they do out there. In your section of society, cases are won and lost, divorces are granted, spouses fight and either decide to give it another go or let it be." He paused, breathing in slowly. "That's not how it works between us. When my wife made the decision to accept my proposal--after a whirlwind courtship, if I can congratulate myself here--I told her under no certain circumstances were we to divorce, ever."

"Let me guess, I'm supposed to believe you _loved_ her?" Randi asked, making her disbelief more than apparent.

"No, no" Rowan replied, shaking his head. "I didn't love her, not that she knew that. It was a public image thing, you know. Divorce--it looks so nasty."

"But you've been divorced, both of you, before--"

"Yes, but that was different. That was before we became who we are now. Now divorce is just... _bad business_ " Rowan said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Imagine the headlines: _Hollywood Royalty, Rowan and Lillian Fallon, announce shocking divorce!_ " Rowan exclaimed, imitating a news reporter. "Not us, no. It's this marriage that's made us famous, and I fully intend to live up to my end of the deal."

Randi inhaled slowly, jutting her jaw out in annoyance. "So you intend to pretend to be someone you're not simply because getting divorced would be, oh, I don't know, _distasteful_?" 

Rowan looked over at her, studying her face carefully before leaning toward her slightly, his voice a low, even hum. "Do you know what will happen for us, in a marriage like this, Ms. King?"

Randi remained silent, knowing he really wasn't looking for her to reply.

"Most Hollywood marriages are interesting to people, some shocking even, but few are as envied as ours. You've seem them: the hungry masses, desperately swallowing up every inch of our existence in the hopes that idolizing us will enable them to _be_ us someday." He laughed, shaking his head. "One day, when we're long gone, the internet will be full of pictures of us. Magazines will still write about us, people will still talk about us on TV shows and online, telling everyone about how they knew us, how they fell into the orbit of the great Rowan and Lillian Fallon and got a taste of the love that made us famous. It doesn't matter that it isn't real: what matters is they believe it, both because they're stupid and because they don't know any different, and they don't need to. All they know is that when they see a photo of us on some corner of the internet or another, filtered into their seedy little homes, coloring their plain little existences, that the thrill of imagining who we are and what we live like far exceeds the reality that they know and experience every day. And that's all they need to know. One bruise or two isn't going to stop them from dreaming, and it certainly won't be talked about until long after my day is done." 

Randi bit her lip, feeling the anger rise in her throat. "You're not gonna get away with this--"

Just then the car lurched to a stop, and Randi turned to see that they were back where they'd started, her car still sitting there, waiting for her. She felt her keys still in her palm, squeezing them anyway, in fear she might leave them in his car accidentally.

He leaned forward, reaching past her and opening her door, smiling at her. "Yes I will, Ms. King, I always do. You'd be wise not to worry about my wife, and just settle for enjoying the Fallon myth like the rest of them do."

He reached a hand toward her, pushing her gently out of the car and placing his hand on the door handle as she stood on the sidewalk, looking around, afraid the surroundings would change again. 

"The next time you see my wife, you make sure to tell her I said hello" he said softly, shutting the door, the car slowly disappearing from view. 

Randi listened as the sound of the engine faded, slowly walking back to her car, snatching her purse from the console and calling the towing company. She knew, realistically, there was nothing else she could do. All she had left now was the knowledge that she'd have to act quickly, so that what was wrong could be made right again.


	22. Chapter 22

The sound of the television bounced off the bedroom walls, the screen having gained Randi's full attention. Usually, the television was nothing more than a useful way to lull herself to sleep, but tonight she sat, waiting for the clock to strike eleven. The _TV Guide Magazine_ sat curled up beside her, open to the second to last page where the programming was listed. She waited, the TV turned to the appropriate channel, knowing sleep would prove elusive anyway.

At last, the logo appeared, the gold 'E' and the 'T' hooked together, crossing over the screen as a female voice came over the air. 

Randi drowned out the first of what she was saying, but perked her ears up at what she'd been waiting for. 

"And our most famous program, _At Home With the Stars!_ , featuring none other than Rowan and Lillian Fallon!" she gushed excitedly, turning to her co-host.

"You know, I had the pleasure of sitting next to Dominic Caldwell this week, at the St. Jude's charity dinner?"

"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry I missed it!" she crowed excitedly, folding her hands under her chin.

"He interviewed the beautiful Lillian Fallon a few weeks ago--"

" _Love_ her!" 

"--and what about her husband!" he exclaimed, grinning widely at her.

"Enviable, just enviable--I mean, married to _him_ , can you imagine?"

Randi hit the mute button, no longer able to stomach listening, turning up the volume only once the camera cut to an exterior shot of the Fallon home. 

She watched as the camera swooped through the front doors, gliding over the lush interior and stopping for a shot of Mrs. Fallon, sitting amidst the elegant scenery that was her living room. 

Randi wasn't even sure why she was watching, or what she was looking for. There was nothing here that would show her anything she didn't already know, nothing about the frippery of this program that could change her mind. 

Just then, she saw it. Rowan Fallon, walking over to where Lillian was sitting and handing her a drink. Lillian took it, smiling, cracking a joke, smiling at the camera before turning toward her husband, teasingly touching his face when she saw Rowan whisper something, cutting Lillian short. 

The actress in her was quick to recover, smiling graciously, but Randi had seen it--the slight jerk of Lillian's head as she pulled away, if only slightly, after he spoke to her.

What it was he'd whispered to her didn't really matter, Randi knew. The jerk of the head was one she knew well--it was something she did when she caught the wrong look on her husband's face. She smiled bitterly, realizing that the difference in status between herself and Lillian made no difference. 

When that fear was felt, it was all the same in the end. 


	23. Chapter 23

The sound of pages turning was the only sound in the conference room. Lynn, Rex, Danni, Viveca, and Andres were huddled around the conference room table, flipping through copies of _The Price of Everything_. Randi hadn't asked him to, but it occurred to Andres on the drive home last night that leaving Randi to read it and scour the pages for clues alone was stupid, and that they could do more in less time if they each covered a few chapters on their own. 

Randi waltzed into the office, having told only Andres about the incident with Rowan the night before, and swearing him to secrecy. 

_"I'll kill him!" Andres said, turning on his heels and marching toward her door._

_"Andres, no!" she cried, grabbing him by the arm. "I'm almost ready to take this thing to court, I just--"_

_"Randi, this has gone too far!" he argued, looking down at her in frustration._

_"Don't tell anyone" she hissed, squeezing his arm._

It had taken a few more minutes--and lots of soothing and promising on her part--to convince him to keep his mouth closed and not hunt down Rowan. 

She plopped into the seat beside him, glancing around at her coworkers. "Anything so far?" she asked curiously, sliding her glasses onto her nose.

"There's something in here about...sex tapes...? The husband character has sex tapes in the house...?" Viveca said slowly, furrowing her eyebrows, both out of disgust and curiosity.

"What page?"

"One hundred thirty-four" Viveca answered, watching Randi flip quickly to the passage she'd pointed out.

"You think that's how he keeps her in the marriage?" Rex asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What does it _say_ exactly?" Randi asked agitatedly, scanning the page. 

"Something about him blackmailing her with the tapes, my guess he recorded their rendezvous--"

"There were no rendezvous, he _raped_ her!" Randi snapped, glaring at Viveca. 

Rex hesitated, glancing at Viveca before saying softly, "Maybe they weren't meant for him to _keep_."

Randi looked up at him, furrowing her brows before the realization of what he was implying slowly dawning on her. 

"...You mean...?"

Rex nodded. "You sell the wrong thing to the right guy, and they'll make sure the big roles will always come your way."

"That's sick" Viveca said slowly as Lynn shook her head. Randi sat frozen, starring at Rex for a few more moments before looking back down at the page. She felt Andres nudge her, and turned to see him cock a brow at her, worry creasing his face again.

She looked down at the table, pressing her lips together before reaching over and squeezing his hand, releasing it after a few moments and looking back at the page.

A silence fell back over the room, and they went back to thumbing through the pages in silence before Joe rushed into the room, an odd look on his face.

"Randi" he said, waiting until she looked up at him.

"What?" she asked, annoyed that he was disturbing her. 

"You're gonna wanna see this--"

"Joe, I don't have time to--"

"It's about your case" he said, the expression on his face unreadable.

Randi stopped, looking around the room before jumping to her feet, following behind him. The others hesitated then followed suit, following close behind Randi and walking over to the waiting area near the front door where their flat screen sat mounted to the wall. 

_"And we're following breaking news out of Hollywood this morning: actress Lillian Fallon was found dead in her Hollywood Hills home just after dawn. Police responding to the tragic scene say they found the 43-year old actress dead in the bedroom of her home, from what they're saying was a massive drug overdose. No word yet on whether they believe it to be accidental or intentional, but sources are indicating it's believed to be a suicide."_

Randi stepped closer to the TV, her mouth open in shock as she starred at the screen, flashing images of Lillian crossing in front of her, from her role on _Fairfield Estates_ to some red carpet footage, and finally, ending on a still photograph of herself with her husband. 

_"Our deepest sympathies are, of course, with her husband at this time. The acclaimed actor, Rowan Fallon, was reportedly the one who found her--"_

Randi watched in horror as the camera cut to footage of Rowan walking across the front lawn of their home, tears in his eyes, as a publicist led him to the driveway where a car was waiting. He disappeared inside, the door shutting behind him as the camera cut once again to footage featuring coworkers, friends, and fans.

 _"It's just absolutely shocking"_ said Dominic Caldwell, ambushed by journalists in front of the television studio where his program was cast. _"She was a lovely woman, and of course, her husband is just fantastic, I mean, you never saw love like that, ever. He just adored her, and I only pray that he gets through this."_

The camera panned over the outside of the Fallon home, and to a shot of the gate at the front of their neighborhood. Randi watched as the lens zoomed in on a crowd of fans, all holding flowers, some relenting, placing them at the gate, knowing they'd never get in, and others clamoring to get over the walls, desperate to say their goodbyes.

 _"I just loved her so much"_ a young girl was saying, tears running down her face. _"It's just so sad--"_ She stopped short, wiping her face, her lip trembling as she stared at the ground.

 _"What's the hardest part for you?"_ the reporter asked, thrusting the microphone back in her face.

Randi watched as the girl bit her lip, another tear falling as she said in a wavering voice, _"Never getting to tell her thank you...and not being able to say goodbye."_


	24. Chapter 24

The air outside was warm and breezy as Randi walked down the sidewalk, the whir of the stroller wheels the only sound around her. 

Andres was walking beside her, pushing Matthew as they walked aimlessly around the city. The days since the news of Lillian's death broke had been brutal, and Andres had come into her office Friday afternoon and suggested they meet in the park near his place, to take her mind off things. 

In truth, the warm air hadn't done much to ease the cold realization that Rowan had made good on his word to stay married to Lillian until death. It was only later that Randi realized she should've seen this coming; the night she'd sped through Los Angeles in the back of his car he's said something to her that remained lodged in the back of her brain:

_"One bruise or two isn't going to stop them from dreaming, and it certainly won't be talked about until long after my day is done."_

My day. Not _our_ days, but _my_ day, had been the phrase he'd used. Randi should've known then that this could only end one way, and that all her hard work up to that point had been in vain. 

The news coverage of Lillian's death had been endless, paparazzi stalking the outside of their home, hoping for a last glimpse of Lillian. They'd got their wish when paramedics finally loaded her body into the back of the ambulance, about an hour after her death. Splashed all over the news that night had been Lillian in her final appearance: a still, lifeless body, lying under a white sheet. The press had done their job, flooding the airwaves with footage of her and Rowan, calling him what they always did: an artist, a true American icon, a precious, treasured gift the American public could cling tightly to now that his wife was gone. 

Randi remembered her last phone conversation with Lillian, when she'd obtained her permission to interview Lance Kingley only a few days before. 

_"I just don't think it's a good idea--"_

_"Why, Ms. Fallon?" Randi pressed, knitting her brow in frustration._

_There was a silence on the other end before Lillian sighed and said, "There's just always a difference between what the people who work for you see, and what the people who admire you see. It's only out there that I'm perfect."_

_Randi had swallowed heavily, understanding Lillian's anxieties. They matched her own when she was married to her husband, the fear that she should be seen as less of a woman if people knew the truth, if those who loved and adored the man who Mary Beth idolized were to know what he was capable of._

_There was a shudder as Lillian exhaled, finally saying, "Go see him. He's seen me at my lowest, but then again, so have you..."_

_Randi spoke up, fear clenching her insides. "Ms. Fallon, you don't have to be perfect--you have be free, be alive, do you remember what that feels like?"_

_"No" Lillian said softly, her voice just barely above a whisper. "I can only remember this."_

Randi felt Andres nudge her, and looked up at him. 

"You okay?"

"...No" she answered honestly, shaking her head and looking away. 

She felt him reach out and stroke her back, and saw Matthew turn his head and point at her. 

"Wandi!" he exclaimed, his little voice not yet able to sound out the 'R' in her name.

She smiled, bending down as Andres stopped the stroller and scooping him up, resting him on her hip and watching as he smiled at her, touching her face gently.

They started walking again, and after a few moments Andres asked softly, "Do you think he did it?"

Randi thought this over, hesitating before saying, "It doesn't matter. She was dead long before she died anyway."

"What do you mean?" Andres asked, looking at her curiously.

Randi pressed her lips together, sighing before saying, "That man took and took from her until she had nothing left. By the time she died, it barely made any difference anyway. It's not only what happened at the end, but what's happened since the beginning."

"You think we can still take him down?" Andres asked, a fire glinting in his eye. Randi knew after what Rowan had done to her, Andres was still angry enough to kill him, and she was sure that with his strength he could probably do so fairly easily.

"No, no...it's pointless now. What I was supposed to have done, I didn't do, and--"

"Hey, there's nothing you could have done" Andres said seriously, stopping and touching her arm, turning her so that she faced him. "You did more than your job, it's what _he_ did--"

"It's not that simple for me, Andres. She was _me_ , I was her once." The wind picked up, blowing Randi's hair over her face. "I killed my husband but I couldn't protect my own client, now what does that say about me?"

Andres studied her carefully, before finally saying, "It says that you're human, and that you can't prevent everything, Randi. You can only do your best, you can't do more than that, and you shouldn't have to."

Randi looked at him, thinking over his words before smiling at touching his arm. "Thank you" she said softly. 

He stroked her arm in return and they continued on again, passing out of the park and coming to an intersection where a mini-mart sat on the corner. In metal racks were several different magazines, all with Lillian Fallon's face splashed across the front cover. Randi felt a wave of sadness pass over her as two women passed by them, chatting to one another. 

"Did you hear the news?" said the one on the left.

" _So_ sad" remarked the other one, shaking her head.

"I feel so sorry for her poor husband" her friend replied, stopping to look at one of the magazines.

"You know he's just _devastated_ by this."

"Don't you wish you were married to him?"

"Oh my god, could you imagine?"

"Well you know they had the perfect marriage."

~~~~

_A jamais, à jamais_   
_J'aurai mon coeur comblé de peine_   
_Désolée, désolée_   
_Je tiens ta vie jusqu'à la fin_   
_Je savais, je savais_   
_Et j'ai mon coeur comblé de peine_   
_Isolée, désolée_   
_Je tiens ta vie jusqu'à la fin_   
_A jamais, à jamais_   
_J'aurai mon coeur comblé de peine_   
_Désolée, désolée_   
_Je tiens ta vie jusqu'à la fin_   
_C'est la fin, c'est la fin_   
_Tiens-moi bien quand le bruit sourd survient_   
_Et que tout s'écroule_   
_N'aie pas peur des cris._

- _Hercolubus_ by Eths

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: If you haven't translated the song lyrics at the beginning and end of this story, I suggest you do; it'll add to your understanding of the piece.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and commenting.


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